Page 60 of Meet Me on Greenwood

He was rising before I could respond, his hand finding my wrist, pulling me forward. His face was no longer vacant, but desperate, which was somehow worse.

Houston moved, but Dr. Brown was faster. He was beside Paul in two steps with a needle in his hand, efficient and practiced. Paul barely registered the injection. His legs gave way gently and Houston caught him on the way down, lowering him to the ground with both arms. He stayed there even after Paul went still.

The tent went quiet. Dr. Brown straightened and looked at me. "Are you hurt?" he asked me.

"No." I rubbed my wrist. "I’m sorry. I thought I had it under control."

"You couldn't have known," Houston said. He was still crouched over Paul. His voice was steady, but his knuckles were split and there was still blood drying over his brow. He looked exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with the fight.

Just then, footsteps approached. Camille arrived first with Rita a half step behind her. They took in the scene with very different expressions. Rita looked terrified, while Camille looked furious as she assessed the damage.

"Have you all lost your minds?" she fumed, turning to Dr. Brown. "You better get both of these white men out of here before one of us is at the end of a rope."

Dr. Brown opened his mouth, but thought better of it. Camille took a deep breath and attempted to soften her tone. "Come, Gema. We are overdue at home."

I looked back at Houston who nodded. "I’ll be fine," he assured. "She is right. Go."

I stood and followed Rita and Camille out.

The drive home was only a few blocks, but it felt miles long as I waited for Camille’s fury to erupt. Once the car pulled to a stop in the driveway, I reached for the door handle.

"Not yet," Camille said sternly. "Rita, go in the house."

Rita turned to her mother, then to me in alarm. "Mama…"

"Rita, now!" Camille waited for the car door to shut before she whipped around. "Look at me."

I met her gaze. Camille commanded complete authority. If Perry and Houston were afraid of her, so was I.

"Is it true that you left my daughter alone to meet up with Dr. Whitaker?"

My eyes widened. This was the last thing I had expected. "I—no. That is not what happened."

Camille sucked in a breath. "You are telling me that people did not see you alone on a ferry boat with that white man?"

"He got on without my—"

"I do not know how things are done in the north," she interrupted. "But let me tell you how we do them down here. This may be Native territory, but the moment oil was struck, this land no longer belonged to them. It certainly never belonged to us." She paused, letting that settle. "You don't understand how precarious all of this," she motioned around her to the beautiful neighborhood. "It could all come crashing down in a rain of fire if we take one step out of line."

She settled back in her seat and ran her hand slowly through her finger length hair. The fury hadn't left her, it had just gone somewhere deeper.

"We agreed to take you in. But you will never—never put my family in danger again. Is that understood?"

There was no argument to be had. She had made her mind up about what happened and she was not entirely wrong. Even though I was a grown woman, maybe five years her junior, it felt like the days when my father chastised me for misbehaving. He was particularly talented when it came to evoking shame and disappointment, not just on his behalf, but the entire Black race.

"Do you know how foolish this makes us look?" I could still hear him say.

"I do. I’ll stay away from Houston Whitaker. I promise."

23

Houston

Husband Nailed Rubber on Gates: Wife so Weak and Nervous Could Not Stand Least Noise

Iwas exhausted. I'd spent the better part of a week either visiting Paul in the hospital, or buried in my practice. The lines at my office never seemed to end.

Sarah had won Miss Tulsa. I'd sent flowers, but that was all I could manage. If I was being honest with myself, I was avoiding her. I couldn't fathom sitting across from her and pretending I hadn't heard what I'd heard. It had already been over a week, and I still hadn't called on her.